The Sinners of Saint Amos - Logan Fox Page 0,262

water. The temperature is perfect. Most of my men like hot showers, but I can’t handle anything hotter than lukewarm. I immediately start washing my face and then move on to shampooing my hair, eager to get rid of every trace of blood covering my skin.

When I hear the shower door sliding open, I splutter out a disgruntled, “Hey!” and try to blink through the suds streaming down my face. The shampoo immediately starts burning my eyes, of course, and that just pisses me off even more.

Lately, I’ve barely had a handle on my emotions. Things that normally wouldn’t even annoy me, make it feel like the entire universe is conspiring against me. Which makes my men start creeping around me on tiptoes…which pisses me off even more.

“Get out!” I punch out randomly, my eyes squeezed shut because I don’t want more soap in them.

I hit solid flesh, but then someone wraps their hand around my wrist and tugs my arm away from them.

“Get—”

Fingers grab my chin and push up. Water hits my head, washing the shampoo from my hair. A hand swipes over my face, wiping away the suds clinging to my forehead and cheeks. Gentle hands. Soothing fingers. Rube or Cass, I’m sure.

When I finally dare to open my eyes, my stomach twists.

Through the steam and the spray of water, I see Zachary standing in front of me. Naked. Grim. Bloodstained.

I quickly scan the rest of the bathroom, but it’s just the two of us. And it scares me, because Zach is still broken. He still can—and has—snapped. The meds help, of course, as does the counseling…but a Band-aid is never as good as stitches.

“I’m done,” I say, trying to sidestep him. “It’s all yours.”

“But it’s not, is it?” Hands slide around my waist, and I instantly stop moving. Zach’s fingers caress the curve of my belly, his dark green eyes moving down my body as he steps closer, drawing me into an embrace.

Is he talking about me, or Malachi? My heart picks up speed—suddenly all I want to do is yell out for the others, to have them close in case Zach acts on the dark promise of those words.

“Malachi is yours, Zach,” I say, laying my trembling hands over his as he wraps me in his arms. “And I’m yours too…if you want me.”

“You know that’s not true,” he growls into my ear. “That’s never been true.”

A hard lump lodges in my throat. Pressure builds behind my eyes, and I don’t know if I want to cry or scream. “Zach—”

“I’ll never be okay with that,” he says.

My chest is so tight, I can’t breathe. “I never meant—”

“But it’s fit in or fuck off, right?” His hands glide up to grip the back of my neck, drawing my head away and forcing me to look into his eyes. “That’s how it’s always been.”

What am I supposed to say? I mutely shake my head, my mouth working as my mind reels.

Something in his face changes. The darkness in his eyes draws back, the tightness around his mouth eases. He blinks, staring down at me as if he’s only now seen me for the first time in his life.

Goosebumps break out over my skin, and it has nothing to do with the water, or our proximity, or even the fact that I can feel his dick growing hard between us.

“That’s how it’s always been, right from the start.” He frowns, his gaze latching onto my mouth. “We forced you to fit in. Made you take all of us. Didn’t allow you to choose. Would you have, if you could?” He strokes wet ribbons of hair from my face, cupping me in his hands. “Who would you have chosen, if we’d given you a choice down there in Saint Amos’s library?”

I shake my head, but he tightens his hands to stop the motion.

“Come on,” he murmurs, dropping his head lower, staring deeper into my eyes. “It’s just us. No one else will ever know.”

My eyes dart between his as I try and read his motives. Because that’s something I learned about Zach many years ago—he always has an agenda.

“No one,” I say.

He blinks, confusion flickering over his face. “None of us?”

“I wasn’t looking for anyone—or anything—when I arrived at Saint Amos,” I tell him, reaching up and grabbing hold of his wrists. “I’d just lost my parents.” My voice hitches, but I soldier on, determined to get done with what I need to say before he interrupts me again. “I